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Rooftop Loyalties
++ Kaon ++ The city of Kaon continues to dive into chaos and strife as more of its Decepticon citizens rise up against what remains of an official presence in the polity. Another skirmish between miners and Enforcers is just winding down, and the call has been made for available Decepticons to help route out the government stragglers. Blast Off was not far away when he received that call, having just ordered a drink at a nearby bar. After his talk with Whirl he felt he needed it. There's a lot on his mind, what with learning the truth about Pursuit and what Whirl did to her. Yes. Definitely could use a drink. As so often seems to be the case these days. Making his way up to the top of the building, the shuttleformer perches on the roof, accessed through an elevator system and is currently perched there, watching the goings-ons below. The sniper has his rifle out and deliberates picking off some of the Enforcers. Meanwhile, back down at the ground-level bar, the bartender looks up to one of the waiters. "Hey- that shuttleformer- where'd he go? His drink is ready." An ambiguous figure seated at the bar, hidden beneath the dark, metal fabric of a cloak, outstretches a sharp, slender hand at the bartender's question and answers sweetly with an unseen smirk while taking the drink. "I believe he had to step out for a moment. I'll bring it to him, don't worry." And before the tender can protest, the figure is off in the direction Blast Off went. After a moment of waiting, the elevator reaches the roof with a soft ding before parting doors and allowing the cloaked bot to step forward. "You left your drink downstairs, stranger." A familiar voice nearly purrs when approaching the sniper, no hesitation in casual stride that has hips swaying beneath the cloak in an alluring, pendulum motion. Blast Off has just spotted one of the Enforcers far below, and the sniper moves his weapon to line up the sights straight on the mech's head. His finger clicks off the safety with practiced familiarity and he nestles the butt of the gun into the crook of his shoulder. There... nice and steady. Even at this range, he's confident he won't miss. And odds are he won't. It's looking *really* bad for that Enforcer down below. And then he gets a reprive. Just as the Combaticon's finger is squeezing the trigger, the elevator dings and opens behind him. His face lifts up immediately. His weapon still in hand, he turns around to see... HER. He knows her. Or rather, he knows the purr of that voice instantly- not to mention the sashay of those hips. Blast Off can't quite completely hide his surprise as he stares at the approaching femme, though widened optics soon return to normal as he glances away. Because he remembers- remembers just what a FOOL he made of himself the last time they met. But that was then and this is now. That was when Feint had a grip on his psyche- now she no longer holds sway. His gaze returns to the femme as he tries to look calm, collected and aloof once more. "I did. Though we are... not strangers. Greetings, Scorn." "Oh, I know. But we haven't seen each other in so long that we might as well be." Scorn comments mildly when stopping at his side and placing the drink upon the ledge, her backside soon joining it as she sits and pulls back her hood to meet him with those gold optics. "I wasn't expecting to see you downstairs, but perhaps it's a good thing I did..." But she shakes her head and looks over him, refamiliarizing herself with the mech she hasn't seen in quite a while. "But I will get to that in a moment. I heard about the arrests.. and then the jailbreak. How.. have you been?" The question sounds somewhat genuine, but there's an oddness to it. As if she isn't used to giving a single ounce of concern for others. "..I see they've got you working." A comment muttered softly when eyeing the rifle he sports. "True. It has been... awhile." He's suddenly hit with an odd urge to apologize for his earlier behavior, but is not quite sure how to appraoch it. Saying you're sorry isn't always easy when you have an ego the size of a small solar system. As Scorn sits down and places the drink nearby, Blast Off watches quietly, reaching over and taking the glass in hand. He lifts it up politely with a "Thank you", then pauses. "Have you already had a drink?" His violet optics meet her golden ones as he is again torn between finding her strangely... alluring despite being an Insecticon- and then having that same unease he always has *around* Insecticons, thanks to Bombshell. In short, he hasn't decided just how to react to her yet. The comment about it being a *good thing* she saw him gets a slight tilt of the head as he ponders just what she meant by that, but decides not to press it. The mention of the jailbreak causes the shuttleformer to roll his shoulders as he thinks back to the cramped conditions- and the inhibitor claws. "....These last few cycles have NOT been my favorite, by any means." He leaves it at that for now. "However, it appears the Senate's own arrogance was finally their downfall, and now the Decepticons are taking back Kaon." He looks out at the city and pats his ionic blaster once. "Yes, they are. I'm picking off any Enforcers who haven't quite gotten the memo to leave town yet." He looks back to the femme. "How are you?", he returns the question, "I am surprised to find you here with all that has been going on." Scorn smirks softly at the offer and raises a hand to politely decline. "No, but thank you. I'm saving my appetite for later." What she means by that is unclear, but she'll likely explain soon. For now she just nods and listens as he speaks, optics wandering the city sprawling out before them. "The Senate.. Yes, their demise unfortunately puts me in a precarious position. I'm unsure just how long my diplomatic immunity will hold within the coming days, so I've been.. careful." That more or less answers his question, but she continues and views him again with a soft, yet tired smile on exotic features. "I'm.. alright. Concerned for what's to come, but alright. I never expected my visit to Cybertron to become so complicated, but.." She looks back out and sighs, allowing regal airs to leave her for the moment. "I'm forced to think bigger now. Bigger than my own homeworld's problems now that I see the state of my kin here. I see opportunity in it, however, so perhaps things will work out.. Which brings me to why I'm here." Drawing herself up from her worried thoughts, Scorn turns to him and addresses him in a more serious tone. "I need your help. I know the last time we spoke went.. poorly and I understand if you don't wish to aid me, but I'm looking for someone. As a sniper I trust your optics to see much, so I would ask if you would help me find a mech by the name of Detour. He's a shuttleformer, like you, but grey with green on his chestplate and blue optics. It's vital that I find him.." The reference to Insecticons and *appetite* gets the faintest glance as Blast Off can't help but wonder just what she means by that, but is soon interrupted by the mention of the Senate and just where that could place Scorn. "That's true. The political instability could affect someone like you, couldn't it?" He looks throughtful. "And given your homseworld, your... kin, that could present you with some problems." His thoughts suddenly drift to Detour, of their discussion once, which included Scorn- his offer to lavish Blast Off with riches and high caste trappings should he bribng the Insecticon femme to him. Hmm. The shuttleformer regards Scorn now with that in mind, playing over the possibilities. *Would* he actually want to do that, though? It could be a bit awkward given that she just brought his drink to him and is sitting down for a chat. "...I'm afraid that anything involving Cybertron these days *is* going to be complicated." He's just about to ask her what that opportunity she speaks of is when she asks for help and *mentions Detour*. Blast Off pauses at that. Finally, he admits to one small thing: "I... am vaguely familiar with him. Why are you looking for him?" Scorn's lips curl into a moderate frown and optics narrow just a hair when he asks that, her hands balling into loose fists on he ledge at her sides. "I aim to kill him." She says firmly while staring at her lap, though optics soon shift to look him in his own, a deadly seriousness in them. "That single action would strip my immunity here, but Detour must be made an example of for what he has done to both me and my people here. He /enslaves/ us, Blast Off. Makes us into cattle to be farmed and pets to be fawned over. He thinks us nothing but dumb animals!" She grits her teeth now, but tries her hardest to keep it in check, pressing lips thin and sighing in frustration. "And to me personally, he both attacked me and had to audacity to post up a bounty. I am no stranger to people puting out hits on me and waking to assassins over my berth, but I will not stand for it and I will cut this serpent's head off if it means it will kill the body that is his business and affiliations." Hmm. A pity it wasn't just... Oh nothing much really, I'd just like a chat, catch up on old times.... but that's never really the way these things work anymore is it? Blast Off is suddenly faced with a decision to make- whose side is he really on? Detour, a mech he doesn't know well but is High Caste, a fellow shuttleformer, and COULD be a ticket back towards wealth and the kind of comfort he once knew. Which is *extremely* appealing. OR, he could side with Scorn... the femme who has been far more... friendly, shall we say, has made her OWN offers of wealth and fabulousness (though they might be about to be cut off should her diplomatic immunity go away), and has generally been much more pleasant to talk to, when he hasn't been having flashbacks to Feint at least. He can also see her point. "I see." The shuttle looks out over the city again, deliberating on his next course of action. "That *would* be frustrating. Well- more than just frustrating, really. You're facing a sort of... genocide, I suppose." Her comment on assassins at the foot of her bed gets an optic ridge lifted and gaze pointed at her once more. "You're still dealing with that? Are your bodygaurds unable to cut them off before they recah you?" He pauses to add quietly, thoughtfully, "There *is* quite a large bounty on you still, isn't there?" Scorn's anger is put on pause at Blast Off's question of the attacks, making her blink to him in surprise before offering a light little smirk. "No, not here. I meant back home, actually. Animatron is.. different. We are very old and traditional, so it isn't unheard of for warring empires to send assassins after each other. I have yet to run into bounty hunters since the posting, but then I've been careful about where I go lately." As for the reward itself, she just scoffs. "That amount is an insult. But it just shows me how little Detour knows about who he's dealing with. The question still stands, however." Upper torso turns to him fully and she looks him in the optics. "Will you help me? You may name your price if so and I will match it. ..And perhaps it will make up for my previous actions that night." Blast Off ahs. "Understandable, then. Yes, you really can't be too careful." His hand tightens almost imperceptibly on the stock of his gun before loosening again as he debates choices. His gaze comes up to Scorn again as he replies, " I suppose." Of course HER bounty is a little larger than HIS bounty, but he's not going to even mention HIS bounty right now. "Detour comes across as a... sort of frugal mech, the one or two times I'e met him." Then she mentions his price AND that night, and this brings the shuttleformer to another pause. His gaze shifts now as he looks away. "....Your... previous actions?" He remembers HIS actions, but he's not exactly sure what SHE is referring to. He wants to be certain before replying further. "What would my help entail, exactly?" Scorn wasn't completely innocent, given she tried to force herself on him, in a way. She's hesitant to admit to such a thing, so she dodges his first question and instead focuses on the next. "All you would need to do is simply tell me where he is. That's all I ask. Afterwards you may claim your reward and be done with me, if it pleases you." It's true, she quite enjoys the mech's company, but if he doesn't want to associate with her then there isn't much she can do about that. "I may not know you all that well, Blast Off, but I figured I could entrust you with this task more than I could some complete stranger." Trust. It's a funny thing, and he's not entirely sure still whether she deserves it- or if HE does. The thought of betraying a fellow shuttleformer- well, that is just UNCOUTH is what it is. But then again, his luck with his fellow space alts HASN'T been all that stellar lately anyway. He looks at the femme sitting beside him, and somehow betraying her seems on the uncouth side as well. So many decisions to make here. "I... do not know where he is at the moment, but...I do have his frequency." He looks off into the distance. "I might be able to help you there, yes." The grip on his weapon tightens again. "But... you're not the only one who has made me an offer." Scorn's golden gaze shifts to his weapon when she catches the tightening grip upon it and he speaks, her mind very quickly puting two and two together. In response she narrows optics and mutters softly, "..I see." It's then that she stands, overshadowing the mech and staring down at him with a mild frown marring her lips. "You are one of the few on this planet I've enjoyed the company of since coming here, Blast Off. And tonight I thought that perhaps you could aid me in my plight. But.. maybe I was wrong if you're having such difficulty chosing who to side with. If you really wish to claim that paltry reward, then by all means I won't stop you.." She hesitates, her frown increasing and brows knitting in a troubled, almost saddnened look. "...Know that I don't want to fight you, but I will if I must." Blast Off looks up at Scorn, and as she stands up he turns to face her fully. Weapon still in hand, he tilts his head... still undecided. The shuttleformer then proceeds to stand himself, violet optics locking onto golden ones once more. He grips his rifle tightly, that reward dancing through his head still. A reward that seems a little more... secure than the one she might offer. Yes, he probably *should* do it. He probably *should* shoot her, collect that money. Maybe collect his old LIFE back. The grip tightens. And then she says... all that. Blast Off stops and stares at that... is that a *sad* look? Of course she /could/ just be manipulating him now. His trigger finger twitches, but doesn't do anything else. "... Why do you... not wish to fight me? You really don't know me very well, after all." Why does he have to ask her such a thing? It was hard enough just to admit that much. But why..? Why doesn't she want to fight him? "Because.." Scorn begins, but hesitates yet again as thoughts of their last encounter replay through her head. "Because.. perhaps I would enjoy knowing you. No one else has been given the offers I've given you since our first meeting. Have you even wondered why that would be? Why I would speak to you when I have so many others available to me? That is why I don't wish to fight you. Because you are smart and adequate at what you do and I would hate to be pitted against someone with so much potential instead of allied with them." "But as I said.." Removing the clasp, Scorn removes her cloak and drops it at her feet as she tenses and readies herself, standing tall and unafraid in the face of danger. "I will not hesitate to defend myself, so make your choice." Blast Off listens to this and.... smelt it all, this is making the Combaticon "gentlemech" feel even *more* awkward than before. While it still could just be a trick, or smoke and mirrors.... what she says is true. She always *has* seemed... interested, in a way. Graced him with gracious offers and brought him into her lavish home. Then again, there /was/ trying to get a little too close and personal than he was prepared for at the time, but... he's still ashamed of his *own* behavior there- it's just hard to admit it. Those darn egos. He stands and watches her speak, then unclasp her cloak, revealing that figure of hers as she faces off, unflinching. Blast Off is silent a moment. "You have been.... generous... Even... intriguing." He admits, then blinks as something hits him. "What do you mean *adequate*?" More like AMAZING, c'mon. ANYWAY. He gazes at Scorn. "...You ask me to betray a fellow shuttleformer." "A fellow shuttleformer that would probably sell you in a sparkbeat. Do not be so willing to trust all those who share your frametype, Blast Off. Every mech is different and won't always share the same ideals you do." Scorn wants to debate this further, but she can see it isn't going anywhere. "..I've given you my offer, an offer without limit, so it's in your hands now. Hunt me or help me, I promise you I will find Detour and end his life." The mantis begins to step backwards and, without turning around, steps up onto the ledge where she now stands precariously at the edge. "I wish this meeting could have gone better, Blast Off, but.. I suppose I can't force you to do as I ask." Unfortunately, she likely speaks the truth and Blast Off knows it. His gaze breaks away, suddenly a little uncomfortable. Had this happened before he lost everything in Vos, he might have found it easier to ignore her. "...I know. That *shouldn't* be the case, but... lately it seems even the High Caste and space alts have been... forgetting who they are. Who they *should* be." His optics darken before turning to her again. "Still, you ask a lot of me." As she steps out onto the ledge, his grip tightens as he once again senses that decision needs to be made soon. "...I cannot blame you, however. If I were in your place I would be doing the same. Tell me- what would you do in my place?" What would Scorn do... "I suppose I should say I would 'do what feels right'. But honestly?" She looks down to him, her expression more placid now as she speaks her mind. "I would side with those who offer the most promising opportunities. Detour has his money and his hunters, but he is a theif and a sparkling killer. Even if I fail to kill him, the Insecticons grow stronger every day and will take him down sooner or later." Turning partway on a heel, the femme looks out over the shambled city surrounding them, her tone steeled and stern when continuing, "So I would ally myself with the strongest. But again, what you do is your choice. Depending on what you choose, you know where my living quarters are." Saying that, Scorn turns around completely with her back to him, unafraid of the gun he wields, and promptly steps off the ledge before being seen flitting back up and off into the distance. Blast Off listens to this, his expression starting off neutral but betraying traces of discomfort by the end. She does have a point. He glances away finally. "...I cannot blame you for being angry with him. Nor for... seeking revenge." His gaze returns, and his fingers flex on the stock of his gun once more. He really *should* raise his weapon and shoot. Time is running out. And yet, the weapon remains in neutral position, even as Scorn turns away. His head tilts- is she inviting him back to her quarters? Into the lion's den? His expression returns to its aloof state as she presents an easy target, turning her back, then flies away. His weapon remains unused... and he feels a little regret watching her go. Just a little regret- things turned out this way. The Combaticon stands there for a moment, then allows himself a small sigh as he turns back to his perch. Sitting once more, he stares at the glass she brought him... and takes a drink.